


Howlin' For You

by somberlittleman



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Graphic Sex, PWP, Public Sex, This really is just porn, exhibition, fluid sharing, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somberlittleman/pseuds/somberlittleman
Summary: A dirty little oneshot in a bar.Mystique usually has her own agenda. He likes this one better than any other she's had before.





	Howlin' For You

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited. I don't think there are any typos but I do apologize if there are.

     Logan raised the bottom of yet another bottle of beer up to face the dark ceiling of the bar, gulping the last of the amber ale down. It clanked slightly as he set it on the countertop before him.

     Before he could gesture for Harry to bring him another, a set of clicking heels stopped somewhere just behind and to the left of him. A woman with an outfit riding the border of classy and indecent leaned her elbows on the bar, brushing the dip of her waist firmly against his arm as she did so.

     Considering the stools at the bar were nearly empty except for him and one other guy at the far end, this was on purpose. Logan didn’t bother hiding his interest as he looked her over. She was blonde, most of her hair piled on top of her head in a gravity-defying manner, though a few tendrils framed her face. Her dress was high-necked and long sleeved, but it was tight and backless and barely managed to cover her ass when she bent over like that. He vaguely heard her order a pitcher of beer and ask for two glasses.

     She turned around and he was almost sad for the loss of the view, until she faced him full-on. He finally got a good look at her face and almost choked on his next breath.   
  
     “Mystique,” he said, recognizing her features even though her skin and eyes were a different color. Now that he was thinking with his other brain, he sniffed, just to confirm. Her perfume had thrown him off a little, as well as the bar packed full of warring scents. The old, dried alcohol left on some of the floors; multitudes of patrons throwing off pheromones, who had also seen fit to douse themselves with false fragrance, and his own slightly dulled senses after downing so much beer in such a short time had allowed her to sneak up on him.  
  
     “Got it in one,” she muttered sarcastically. She turned and paid for her order, cast him a look over her shoulder, and carried the pitcher away from the bar. He left his collection of bottles there and followed her without further instruction.

     She found them the shadiest little booth in the bar, around a corner from the main area. The only other patron in this part of the bar was an elderly woman with her back turned to them and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Her attention was rapt on the poker game displayed on the TV hanging on the back wall.

     Mystique all but shoved him into the booth, and he scooted down, his jeans making the leather underneath him creak. When she settled in next to him, she was just as close as she had been at the bar. Closer, actually, as soon as she pressed her leg up against his.

     “What the hell are you doin’ here,” he thought to ask. She pushed a full pint glass in front of him. He sniffed it before he actually took a drink, and he caught her smirking in amusement.

     She didn’t begrudge him a lack of trust. He figured she thought he was smart not to.

     “A little of this, a little of that. You, hopefully.”

     His pants had been slowly but steadily growing more uncomfortable through their interaction, but at her bold declaration, he couldn’t help but shift to try and relieve some of the pressure on his hardness.

     “And what makes you think I want to do anything with you?” he ground out, sizing her up suspiciously. He drank almost the entire beer in his hand and set it firmly on the table, freeing his hands.

     All she did was give his crotch a lingering glance, meet his eyes once more, and arch a perfectly shaped brow.

     “Yeah, anybody that likes a nice ass would get hard lookin’ at you,” he said bluntly, dragging his eyes back down her body. That dress looked even tighter when she was seated, the material stretched over her thighs. “Doesn’t mean I have to actually let you anywhere near it. You’re an enemy and a class-A bitch to boot.”

     “That’s part of the fun,” she told him with a smirk. He watched her mouth, thinking her lips would look good wrapped around his length, smearing that crimson lipstick on his skin. “You and I shouldn’t be within fifty feet of each other unless we’re trying to rip each other apart. But it would be thrilling to see the furious, maybe even disgusted look on any other X-Man’s face to know you’d fucked me.”

     She rested her hand on his thigh, her fingers creeping toward his inseam, and his legs fell open, allowing the movement. She shifted, facing him sideways to block the view from outside the booth, and he could smell her arousal clear as day the second she moved.

     Well. He guessed that took care of _her_ motivation for doing this. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smelled a woman so wet and wanting when he didn’t have his tongue inside her. What the hell could it hurt, anyway? It wasn’t like either of them were divulging the secrets of their respective teams.

     She undid his button and zipper with deft hands and bypassed the fly of his shorts. The sound made his tummy coil with tension and heat pool lower, his balls feeling tight and heavy. When her hand finally curled around his length and pulled it out, he breathed harshly and let his head fall back to the wall.

     The cool air on him was refreshing after the last few minutes had worked him up so badly. She tugged a few times, bringing him to full size with no restrictions, and then the damnable woman started teasing him.

     She stayed near the head, squeezing and jerking rhythmically at the sensitive part of his shaft just behind the rim. When she paused with her fingers wrapped firmly behind the head and swiped the soft little pad of her thumb across his slit, wetting it with his pre-cum, he swore under his breath.

     He heard her laugh, then, and opened his eyes to watch her. She was already looking at him, expression smug, as she toyed with him. Her hand was slow and lazy now, though her grip stayed just as tight, working him from base to tip. He canted his hips upward, straining to get more friction. She stopped moving her hand at all, gripping him at the base, and dipped her fingers in her own untouched beer glass.

     He was already groaning before she touched him. The cold shocked against his sensitive skin, but she only had to pump him a few times before it warmed up. She was holding tight to his base with her left hand, an impromptu cock ring as her right continued to play and tease to her own delight. She leaned over him, sucking his cock deeply into her mouth and his jaw fell open at the incredible sensation of her hot mouth lapping at him.

     “God damn it,” he hissed when she sat upright once more, having finished lapping the residue of beer off his prick. “You do somethin’ about this or I’ll finish it myself,” he warned her, an aggressive growl in his tone.

     She laughed at him, and he didn’t know whether to be pissed off or glad that he hadn’t scared her away. She pulled his foreskin back taut and teased the rim softly, drawing her fingertips around his head, and Logan had the impulse to yank her completely out of the booth and take her right over the table. He was gripping the worn leather cushion beneath him, his knuckles white with the effort of restraining himself, about ready to follow through on that impulse when she finally let go of her grip at the base of his cock and started jerking him off properly with a practiced hand and a quick movement.

     The incredible release had him gasping for breath as he thrust harshly into her hand, and he saw stars behind his eyelids for a moment. He finally looked at her, a self-satisfied grin gracing her face now that she’d disheveled the Wolverine, in public no less. He looked down and grunted.

     “I liked this shirt.”

     “You look like a lumberjack in it. And contrary to the opinions held by most who visit this bar, that isn’t a compliment.”

     “You seem to like it well enough,” he pointed out. Now that he’d blown a load, his mind was a little clearer, and he turned a predatory look at her. She didn’t have time to make another comment before he was grabbing her elaborate hair in his left hand, his grip tight as he pulled back, exposing her neck. She made no move at all to disguise her breathless moan, and Logan caught movement out of the corner of his eye. It didn’t take long for their friend at the nearby table to vacate the immediate area.

     “You’re making the other patrons uncomfortable, you little slut,” he said, feeling pleased with himself when the accusation made a prideful look cross her face. Not all of the women interested in him appreciated the name calling, but he liked that she had a thick skin.

     He leaned in, dragged his teeth over her neck, and muttered an order into her skin. “Spread your legs.”

     She was all too happy to comply. He imagined she was looking forward to her payback for getting him off so spectacularly. He couldn’t remember the last time anybody had paid such thorough attention to a hand job, and he wanted to reward her right.

     He dragged his fingers over his shirt, wetting them with his still-warm cum, and reached under her dress.

     “No panties? How am I not surprised?” he scoffed. She didn’t reply, just canting her hips up when she felt his hand at her sex. When he touched her clit with already wet fingers, she gasped and opened her eyes, looking down as far as his grip on her would allow. She only needed to see his somewhat cleaned shirt to confirm her suspicions, and the sudden dripping of her own arousal onto the leather under her ass told him that this had, in fact been a good idea. Mystique liked it as dirty as he did.

     Her hands scrambled for purchase, her close one landing on his thigh again, nails digging into the denim. He bit harshly at the space where her neck and shoulder met in retaliation for the slight pain, and she gasped.

     He finally slid two fingers inside her, just exploring her heat and slickness for now. She squeezed her internal muscles around him purposefully, deriving pleasure from the penetration, and rocked against his hand in a rhythm. He found her clit with his thumb and stroked his fingers in a come-here motion, finding the rough patch of skin that had her cursing vividly. The slick sounds coming from under her dress, the heat on his fingers, and the thick scent of sex in the air was enough to have Logan’s cock perking up again.

     He worked her cunt thoroughly, adding a third finger and stroking her fast and harsh. When she finally spasmed around him, he covered her mouth with his own in a crushing kiss to muffle as much of her pleasured noise as he could.

     He pulled away when she was finished, and they both sat at the booth in an exposed, rumpled heap for a beat. She reached for her beer and he licked their combined juices from his fingers.

     Their eyes met moments later while they both fixed their clothes.

     “I’ve got a hotel room down the road,” she informed him curtly, standing from the booth. “Round two?”

     He eyed the slick mess on the back of her left thigh, visible thanks to the shortness of her dress.

     “You’ll be lucky if we make it there,” he told her bluntly, following her from the bar.


End file.
